


Just Look Up

by Daisy_Rivers



Series: Song on My Tongue [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Break-ups and Reconciliations, Communication Issues, Drama, F/M, Loud arguments, Love, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Semi-Public Sex, Sex of course, Theater - Freeform, broken dishes, emotional scenes, happy endings, unhappy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 12:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Rivers/pseuds/Daisy_Rivers
Summary: Daveed, Emmy, and Rafael tell you more about Lin and Pippa's history. Leslie and Nicolette's party is disrupted by an unexpected guest and a loud and destructive emotional scene. Happy endings aren't promised, but if you're lucky you get one anyway.





	Just Look Up

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Shakespeare was nice enough to write a couple of plays whose plot lines I was able to use to reveal more about the characters. I am grateful to him, as always.

“Okay,” you say, bracing yourself. “Tell me about you and Pippa.”

This is not necessarily the conversation you want to have at this time of night, but Pippa’s call to Rafael had triggered a series of other calls, and now the subject is right there, elephant in the room and all that.

“We were doing _Measure for Measure_ together for Shakespeare in the Park,” he says.

 You nod. “I remember.”

“She and Lin were on a break or something.”

Pippa and Lin were perpetually on the verge of breaking up or on a break or in the midst of a passionate reconciliation. It was hard to keep track.

“Right,” you say, not giving him any help.

“I was playing Angelo and she was Isabella.” Of course. Lord Angelo was the outwardly moral, but inwardly corrupt and sex-obsessed official in charge of the city. Isabella was the genuinely virtuous girl he was trying to seduce.

“That must have been fun,” you comment rather unfairly.

Rafa’s eyebrow goes up. “You think I’d have fun trying to blackmail a girl into having sex with me to save her brother’s life?”

You flush. “No, of course not, that’s not what I meant. You’re nothing like Angelo.”

“Thanks,” he says drily.

“Come to think of it, Pippa isn’t much like Isabella, either,” you admit, finally smiling. That’s an understatement. Isabella plans to become a nun. Pippa has definitely chosen a different life path.

“Yeah.” Rafa laughs ruefully and pushes his hair off his forehead. He holds out his hand. “C’mere.” You sit down next to him, and he puts his arm around you, then does his one-handed cigarette-lighting thing and inhales. “Pippa is what my dad would have called ‘a handful’,” he says. “How well do you know her?”

“Not all that well. I met her and Lin through Jasmine and Anthony.”

“So as long as you’ve known her, she and Lin have been together?”

“Yeah.”

He takes another drag on his cigarette and blows out some smoke. “I’ve known her a lot longer. I’ve seen her and Lin break up at least three times, and every time, it’s the end of the world, and she practically has a breakdown.”

“A lot of drama, Jasmine says.”

“So much drama. And with Groff back from New Zealand and in the mix again, it can only be worse.”

“Do you mean you think they’re about to break up again?”

“All the signs are there. Pippa’s drinking a lot, even for her, Lin’s stressing out about the new show, and they’ve been all over social media in the last couple of weeks. Their … let’s say, their public activities tend to escalate right before a break-up.”

“You mean like they’re trying to show everybody they’re still in love?”

“Exactly.”

“So what will happen if they break up?”

“Well, it’s _when_ , not _if_ , but Lin will probably go away for a few weeks, and Pippa will have to find herself a new boyfriend to prove that she doesn’t miss him. That was me during _Measure for Measure_ , but I didn’t know the deal then, and I thought we were starting an actual relationship.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well, Chris had a talk with me, so I didn’t exactly get my heart broken. I just took the attitude that I’d enjoy our little interlude, but not take it seriously.”

“How did that go?” you ask, a little prickle of jealousy running up your spine. That’s ridiculous, you know, because you and Rafa don’t have a real relationship right now either.

He finishes his cigarette and stubs it out. “Pretty well, actually. We had fun for a while, but as soon as Lin was back in town, I could see the end coming. Pippa was calling him, texting him, trying to go places where we would run into him. That was awkward.”

“Did you ever end up in the same place as him?”

“Oh, yeah.” He counts off on his fingers. “Lunch at Ella’s, movie night at Jasmine’s, pool party at Renée’s, and then late one night at the Sherwood Bar. That was the last time because she went home with him.”

“Then what did she mean when she said you dumped her?”

He looks at you sideways from under his lashes, his eyes nearly gray. “Well, first of all, she was drunk, so maybe not being real clear on things, but the fact was, I did leave her in the bar that night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think she cared, since she was on Lin’s lap with her skirt hiked up, and for whatever reason, she had chosen not to wear underwear that night.”

“Oh, God.”

“I mean, things were pretty obvious to me, and I wasn’t mad or anything, because I knew it was coming, so I just said something like, ‘Well, okay, I’ll see you later,’ and left. I don’t think either of them heard me.”

You’re trying to imagine the scene. “I know this is irrelevant,” you say, “but was the bar crowded that night?”

“Not very, and anyway, Jimmy’s a good guy.”

“Jimmy?”

“The bartender. He made sure the table was placed strategically to block visibility, and didn’t seat anybody else near them. I think he’d dealt with them before.”

“What is it about them and … um … acting out in public?”

“Acting out?” He’s smiling.

“You know what I mean. Have they ever actually … done it … in a restaurant or at a party?”

He nods. “At least twice that I know of, and I’m pretty sure those weren’t the only times.”

“I can’t imagine …”

He brings his mouth close to yours. “Really? You don’t think it might be kind of exciting?” He kisses you before you can answer, but the thought of it makes you blush.

“I think I’d be too nervous to enjoy myself.”

He kisses your jaw and then your neck. “What if it was only semi-public?”

You shiver, and he smiles. “What do you mean by semi-public?”

“Oh, maybe at a movie where it’s dark, or at a party with dim lighting, off in a corner by ourselves?”

“Rafa …”

“Not if you really wouldn’t like it, of course, but maybe think about it.”

You have to admit – at least to yourself – that the totally uninhibited behavior you’ve seen from Lin and Pippa has looked hot, even if has gotten way more attention than you’d want. Still, maybe something a little less public … “I’ll think about it,” you say, and then something occurs to you. “Did you and Pippa ever … in public?”

“Oh, God, no. Pippa loses control very easily.”

You wish you hadn’t asked.

*          *          *          *          *

Leslie and Nicolette are throwing a party to celebrate his Tony nomination for playing Billy Flynn in the revival of _Chicago_. Everybody’s there, including Lin and Pippa – and Groff, along with a few _People Magazine_ journalists and photographers who are doing a story on the home life of a Broadway star. They’ve already done most of their work, and Leslie has made it clear to them that they have only the first hour of the party to take candid pictures and chat with his friends, and then they’re leaving. The party begins inside, where there’s a bar and an impressive buffet, but the French doors are open, and it soon overflows to the terrace. It’s a warm evening, there’s plenty of seating inside and out, music is playing, and things are going fine until Thayne comes in with a drop-dead gorgeous blond on his arm, and Renée and Chris exchange alarmed looks across the room.

“Could that possibly be Emily?” you ask Rafa, as Renée steers Thayne and his date to the buffet table, smiling brightly.

He doesn’t answer because before he can speak, Jasmine grabs your arm and blurts, “That’s her!”

“Emily?” you ask, keeping your voice low, although the room is noisy so it probably doesn’t matter.

Jasmine nods, her eyes on Lin and Pippa, who are dancing and haven’t noticed anything. A _People_ reporter has approached Thayne and Emily and is asking questions. Renée stays nearby, while Chris and Veronica make sure they’re in a position to block Lin’s view. Rafael pulls gently on your arm. “How about we go out on the terrace?” he suggests. “I think Daveed and Emmy are out there.”

“You just want to get out before things blow up, don’t you?”

He shrugs, his eyes still on Lin and Pippa, waiting for them to notice Emily. “If it gets too bad, we can just rappel down the side of the building from the terrace and escape.” Leslie and Nicolette’s apartment is on the fourteenth floor.

“You have rope?” you ask.

He nods seriously. “In my utility belt.”

You laugh, and follow him out. Jasmine and Anthony stay inside to see what happens. Rafa was right; Daveed and Emmy are on the terrace, seated at a round table. Daveed raises his hand in greeting as you and Rafa approach.

“Gonna get noisy in there,” Daveed predicts.

“Thayne must have seen the video,” you say. “Why would he bring her?”

Emmy takes a sip of her drink. “Thayne probably thinks it’s funny. He’s like a real-life leprechaun. Everything’s funny.”

“Thayne and his practical jokes,” Daveed adds. “Open your door and a bucket of confetti falls on your head, Thayne did it.” He looks at Emmy. “Remember the homemade cookies with the red things he said were cranberries?”

Emmy shudders. “Oh, my God.”

“Not cranberries?” you ask.

“Ghost peppers,” Emmy tells you. “My mouth burned for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Oh, no! How come everybody really likes him and he gets invited to everything?”

Daveed and Emmy look at each other. “Well,” Daveed says, “it’s all pretty funny if you’re not the object of the joke. And he does a good job of spreading it around.”

Rafa chuckles. “The ghost pepper cookies were hilarious.”

“I take it you didn’t eat any?”

“Nah, I just got to watch everybody else gulping gallons of water and screaming at Thayne.”

Daveed turns toward Rafael and says calmly, “Fuck you.”

Rafa just smiles and says, “I’m going to brave the room for another drink. Who’s with me?”

Nobody is, so he makes chicken noises at the rest of you and then goes by himself.

“Have you actually witnessed a Lin-and-Pippa fight?” you ask Daveed and Emmy.

“Oh, yeah,” Daveed says. “A couple of years ago, before his thing with Karen. We were in rehearsal for _Much Ado About Nothing_. Lin and Pippa were Claudio and Hero.”

“Don’t tell me,” you say, “you were Benedick?”

Daveed grins. “Of course. So you know the scene where Claudio and Hero are supposed to get married, but then he goes nuts on her because he thinks she slept with Borachio?”

You nod. “Sure.”

“Well, Lin started with the actual lines, but then he just went completely off the rails, and Pippa slapped him and started trying to yank his hair out, and … well, it was all Tommy and Chris could do to pull them apart.”

Rafa comes back with a small tray of drinks. “I hope y’all like what I got,” he says and puts the tray down.

“Were you in _Much Ado About Nothing?”_ you ask.

“When Daveed was Benedick? Yeah.” He looks at Daveed. “Telling her about the rehearsal wedding-break-up scene?”

“Yeah.”

“First time I ever saw Tommy really lose his temper.”

Emmy shudders. “That was scary. Threatened to cancel both their contracts.”

“Wow.” You pick up the vodka and lime that Rafa got you and take a sip. “What happened then?”

Rafael and Emmy both look at Daveed. “Do go on,” Emmy says, trying not to laugh.

Daveed puts his head in his hands. “I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to hear the whole awful thing. After all, one Lin-and-Pippa story is just like the next one.”

“Oh, come on,” you coax. “You can’t not finish it now.”

Daveed gives Emmy the adorable puppy-eyes, and she sighs. “Fine, I’ll tell it. Let’s just hope I can keep it straight. Okay, so Tommy blasted both of them, and gave us an hour break to calm down. Chris dragged Lin off as fast as he could. Pippa was literally sitting on the stage crying. Her shirt was half ripped off where Lin had grabbed it, and she was just a mess. Karen and I got her to our dressing room and threw her in the shower, found her some clean clothes, and put cold compresses on her eyes. Karen gave her a Xanax, but – you know Pippa, it’s like she feeds on the drama.”

You look over your shoulder at Rafa. “Where were you while this was going on?”

“Off stage,” he says. “I was Dogberry, so I wasn’t supposed to be at the wedding.” So Rafa had played the comic incompetent cop. He would have been hilarious. “I watched, though.”

“Of course you did,” Daveed mutters.

“So,” Emmy continues, “we got back on stage, and of course we had to do the wedding scene because we hadn’t rehearsed it. We were all afraid it was going to happen again, but it didn’t. They were letter perfect. Let me tell you though, every insult Claudio threw at Hero, Lin loved saying. Anyway, we got through it, and Tommy sent us all home with instructions to act like professionals when we came back in the morning.”

“And?” you ask, looking from Emmy to Daveed to Rafa.

“And that’s all we actually saw,” Daveed says.

“But …?”

“Lin cleared his stuff out of the apartment that night and moved it to Karen’s.”

“To Karen’s?”

Daveed throws up his hands. “I told him he could stay at my place, and I know he could have gone to Chris and Veronica’s.”

“But he went to Karen’s.”

Rafa scoots his chair closer to yours and puts his arm around your shoulders. “Lin loves drama. He’d had a thing for Karen ever since they did the _Anything Goes_ tour.”

“And Karen felt the same way?”

Rafa’s face is suddenly serious. “No. I think she was really in love with him.”

“Wow.” You try to work out the timeline and ask Rafa, “Is that when you and Pippa …?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

You turn to Daveed, who has known Lin for a while. “A lot of people thought Lin and Karen were going to get married.”

“Including Karen,” Daveed agrees.

“Lin is really a bastard, isn’t he?”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but he’s also brilliant and creative and funny, so, y’know, nobody’s all one thing.”

“Right.”

“And in all honesty,” Emmy points out, “Pippa isn’t exactly an innocent victim.”

“It’s their dance,” Daveed says. “It’s just who they are with one another, and somehow, it’s worked for years.”

“Well, except for the collateral damage like Karen,” Emmy adds.

“How is Karen?” you ask.

“She’s fine now,” Emmy tells you. “Married a nice guy. She’s teaching at University of Illinois. Took a while, though.”

You’re about to reply when there’s the sound of shattering glass from inside, instantly followed by screaming and yelling. You all look at each other. Daveed picks up his drink and drains it. “And so it begins,” he says calmly.

You stand up and grab Rafa’s hand. “We should …” you begin, taking a step toward the French doors.

“No, we shouldn’t,” he tells you, not moving.

Pippa’s perfect soprano voice carries clearly. _“You mother-fucking son of a bitch!”_ she yells.

You pull a reluctant Rafael along with you, and you see Jasmine and Anthony at the door. They’re on their way out.

“Nope, nope, nope, don’t go in there,” Anthony says.

Jasmine’s eyes meet yours. She looks pale. “It’s bad,” she whispers, and closes the door behind her.

You get closer to the door so you can look in through the glass panes. Lin and Pippa are shouting at each other in the middle of the room. Groff is trying to get between them. Emily is crying on Thayne’s shoulder. Chris is close to the doors, on his phone.

“You couldn’t keep your hands off her, could you?” Pippa yells at Lin.

Lin ignores her and, apparently forgetting that Groff speaks only English, asks him, _“Por qué escuchas a esa puta?”_

Groff stares at him blankly, but Thayne abandons Emily and starts shouting at Lin in Spanish.

“Not Emily, you fool, Pippa!” Lin snaps at Thayne.

You’re not sure what he means, but Pippa’s Spanish must be better than yours, because she launches herself at Lin’s face, nails first. Renée tries to intervene, but she’s too slow, and there are long bloody scratches down Lin’s cheek and neck by the time Renée and Veronica grab her. Chris and Leslie drag Lin backwards before he can retaliate, while Groff stands there as if he’s still not sure what happened. Thayne pulls Emily in the direction of the elevator without even saying goodbye to anyone, and they’re gone in minutes.

“We should go in and help,” you say firmly, and Rafa sighs.

You look over your shoulder at Jasmine and Anthony, Daveed and Emmy.

“Not a chance,” Jasmine tells you frankly.

Daveed shakes his head. “Don’t do it.”

You straighten your shoulders, ignore them, and pull Rafa with you into the room. As you enter, you are surprised to see Groff exiting to the elevator. Other guests follow awkwardly, mumbling strained goodnights as they leave. Nicolette, her face grim, is trying to clean up. You can see now that somebody had thrown plates of food. That would explain the breaking glass sounds that you heard.

“I’m going to help Nicolette,” you tell Rafa. “You should go see if Chris needs you.”

“Chris can handle Lin,” he responds.

“Chris doesn’t speak Spanish,” you remind him.

“Lin speaks English.”

“Could you just try to help anyway? I feel really bad for Leslie and Nicolette.”

“Yeah, okay.” He looks around, not sure where Chris has taken Lin, but he heads down the hall. You find Nicolette in the kitchen and ask her where the mop is.

She’s obviously embarrassed. “You don’t have to …”

“I know,” you respond quickly, “but none of this is your fault, and there’s a lot to clean up.”

She gives you a grateful smile, and shows you where the cleaning supplies are. A few minutes later, Jasmine and Emmy join you, and you see Anthony and Daveed going down the hall. “You’re right,” Jasmine tells you, and you give her a quick hug.

With four of you working, it doesn’t take long to clean up the broken dishes, scrape the food off the floor, and swish the mop around. Emmy checks the living room and comes to a halt in the middle of the area rug, looking down. “I think this is blood,” she says uncertainly.

She’s where Lin had been standing, so that seems logical. You all look at the bright red splotch on the cream-colored carpet, and then Jasmine takes charge like she cleans up bloodstains every day, soaking the spot with cold water and blotting with paper towels over and over. It takes two rolls of paper towels, but she succeeds, and the ugly bloodstain is gone.

Nicolette hugs you all, and announces, “We need a drink.” She breaks out the champagne that was supposed to be used for a toast to Leslie’s nomination and fills four glasses. You all sit down in the living room and kick your shoes off.

“This is gonna be another Lin-and-Pippa story, isn’t it?” Nicolette asks rhetorically. “People are going to be asking you for years, _‘Were you at that party?’_ ”

Jasmine nods. “Probably.”

“Had the crew from _People Magazine_ already left?” you ask.

“Yes, thank God,” Nicolette says. “As soon as Leslie realized that Thayne had brought Emily, he told them it was time to go. Small mercies.”

Emmy looks around. “So what do you think is going on now?”

“Renée and Veronica took Pippa to the guest room, and Lin’s in Leslie’s office. I have no idea what’s taking so long.” She shrugs. “There’s no shouting, so that’s a good sign, I guess.”

She’s barely finished speaking when Leslie, Rafael, and Anthony appear. “Champagne!” Leslie says gratefully. “That’s a wonderful idea.” He pours it and hands glasses to the guys.

Rafa sits on the floor in front of your chair, champagne glass in hand, and looks up at you. “Thank you for not being a raging psycho,” he says.

You choke on a sip of champagne. “That bad?”

He rubs his forehead as if he has a headache. “When I left, Chris and Renée were trying to negotiate a truce.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to take them home in separate cars?”

“Well, since they live in the same place …”

You smack yourself in the forehead. “Oh, of course.” You drink a little more champagne. “Where’s Daveed?”

“Assisting Chris. Chris thinks Diggs is a calming influence.”

“I can see that,” you agree. Rafa just laughs.

Another half hour goes by, and you’re all running out of conversation. Jasmine and Anthony say good night, tell you to text them with updates. Leslie and Nicolette look like they really wish everybody would leave, but Rafael wants to stay until he can talk to Daveed. Finally, Renée comes down the hall and takes Leslie and Nicolette aside for a conversation. You can’t hear what she says, but you have no problem hearing Leslie. “No!” he says adamantly. “Absolutely not. Are you crazy?”

Renée says some more things, quietly, and then Nicolette speaks up. She’s not as loud as Leslie was, but she’s just as resolute. “Renée, it’s just not possible. You must see …”

Renée bites her lip, nods, and disappears back down the hall.

Leslie and Nicolette stare at one another, and then Leslie turns to the rest of you. “Lin and Pippa would like to use our guest room tonight,” he says in a remarkably expressionless voice.

Your jaw drops. “Are you kidding?”

Leslie shakes his head. “It seems they’ve worked things out.”

You look at Rafa, who is still on the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He turns and smiles up at you. “Looks like the Lin-and-Pippa Show has been renewed for another season.”

*          *          *          *          *

You’re half asleep, spooned close to Rafa, his arm thrown around you, when Mía decides that she wants to sleep between the two of you, rather than on Rafa’s other side. She makes whiny noises and pushes you with her nose to make you move.

“Stop,” you tell her. “Lie down, Mía.” She whines again and paws at you. Rafael snorts in his sleep and his arm slides off of you and onto Mía. Mia gives you what you’re sure is a smirk of triumph. “Fine,” you mutter, moving over to give her space. “I know you love him. I know he loved you first. I’m not trying to break you up, you know.”

You realize how ridiculous you sound and turn on your side, trying to get comfortable, but missing Rafa’s warmth against your body. Are you seriously jealous of his dog? How pathetic is that? You just wish you had a better idea of where you stood with him. You hadn’t gone into this expecting it to be anything but a temporary diversion, but now … there is so much more to Rafael that you had realized.

You punch your pillow to fluff it up and close your eyes, wondering how Lin and Pippa are. You’d left Leslie’s when Daveed was done counseling, or whatever it was that he’d been doing, and you and Rafa had shared an Uber with him and Emmy. Daveed had been quiet, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Rafa had pushed him a little, until he’d finally said, “Fuck off, Cash,” and that was enough to shut Rafa up. It’s strange being around him and Daveed, you think, your mind drifting. They know each other so well that they almost speak in code. Half the time you have no idea what they’re talking about, and yet they produce amazing writing together. Rafa hands Daveed a page, Daveed looks at it and says something like, “Nah, fix the front,” and Rafael knows exactly what he means. Now that _Blindspotting_ has given them a solid start, they’re working on another screenplay, but they aren’t talking about it yet.

You finally fall asleep wondering what the script is about, wondering if there might be a role in it for you.

When you wake up, Rafa and Mía are gone, no doubt out for their early morning walk. You feel cranky and unsettled after a late night of too much champagne and strong emotion. You make coffee and take a couple of Advil with your first sip. You’re sitting in the kitchen still drinking your first cup and deleting junk emails on your phone when Rafael and Mía come in.

“Hey, babe,” Rafa says, giving you a casual kiss on the cheek. “You sleep okay?”

You shrug. “Yeah, mostly. All that drama wasn’t especially relaxing.”

“No kidding.” He unclips Mía’s leash and looks disapprovingly at your coffee. “You should have tea.”

“Tea has caffeine too,” you defend yourself, but Rafa has already put the kettle on and has swooped your coffee cup away and emptied it in the sink. “Uh, excuse you?” you protest. “Did I say you could take my coffee?”

“You need a decent breakfast,” he tells you. "In the last week you’ve had a cross-country plane trip, two days of auditioning, and you were forced to witness another Lin-and-Pippa spectacle. You’re more stressed than you realize.” He’s pulling containers out of the fridge.

“Bossy much?” you mutter resentfully.

He puts the containers on the counter and takes both your hands in his, looks right into your eyes. All he says is, “Hey,” but his voice is gentle and his eyes are so clear and green that you could drown in them.

Your throat gets tight, and you bite your lip. He brushes his finger across it so that you stop. “Don’t hurt yourself like that,” he whispers.

You know you’re on the verge of tears, which is really _stupid_ because there’s nothing to cry about, and yet you can’t seem to hold it back. He puts his arms around you, and since you’re still seated, you face is against his chest. He just holds you, stroking your hair, and you cry. He doesn’t even ask you why, thank God, because you couldn’t explain it if he did. You lean in closer to him and put your arms around his waist. He kisses the top of your head and rubs the back of your neck, and after a few minutes you pull yourself together and look around for a tissue. You find one, blow your nose, and look up at him. “Too much champagne last night,” you say. That’s probably not what’s going on, but it’s the easiest excuse.

He smiles and kisses you softly, then goes back to assembling breakfast. A little while later, he’s putting dishes on the table – a bowl of strawberries, some organic yogurt, a plate with muffins on it. “Apple-cinnamon,” he says, pointing to the muffins. “Whole grain, low sugar.”

“You’re very health-conscious all of a sudden,” you say, but you take one of the muffins and try it. It’s good.

“It’s not all of a sudden,” he tells you. “It took about fifteen years.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, Y/N, you know me. I still smoke. I drink. I occasionally use … um, recreational chemicals. I’m probably not going to quit doing any of those things anytime soon, so I try to put up some safeguards against an inevitable early death. I work out every day – you know that – and I eat reasonably healthy food.”

You sip some of the tea with honey that he’s poured for you. “I wish you wouldn’t use phrases like ‘early death’.”

He shrugs. “Babe, I don’t intend to go gentle into that good night. I will rage plenty, but in the meantime, well, I’ll try to stave it off. Self-care stuff, you know.”

“Yeah, maybe I should pay more attention to that.”

He smiles in that way that makes the room light up. “Okay if I help?”

You smile back. “Thanks.”

“You want to talk?”

Your smile fades quickly. “I … I don’t know.”

He reaches across the table and takes your hand. “What are you scared of?”

You drink some more tea to give yourself a minute to focus. “What makes you think I’m scared?”

He doesn’t answer, just holds on to your hand and looks into your eyes. To your annoyance, you feel like you’re about to cry again. Another swallow of tea, and then you give it a try. “Lin and Pippa …” you begin, and then stop.

Rafa gives you an encouraging nod.

“They … it’s been going on for years, right?”

“Yeah. About seven years now.”

“Wow.” Seven years of drama, screaming fights, and public scandals. “When Daveed said it was their dance, he meant that’s just the way their relationship is, didn’t he?”

Rafa thinks about it for a minute. “Yes, but it’s more complicated than that. They could learn to act differently, you know? For starters, they could take their meds regularly.”

“Both of them? I mean, Jazzy said something about Lin, but Pippa too?”

“Yeah, Lin’s bipolar, and Pippa has really bad anxiety. When they’re on their meds, things are a lot calmer.”

“Then why …?”

He shrugs. “Who knows?”

You drink some more tea and eat a strawberry, not sure if you want to ask the next question. Rafael waits patiently, drinking his own tea and occasionally reaching down to scratch Mía’s ear. You understand that he won’t demand that you discuss anything, and somehow that makes it easier. Finally you swallow the lump in your throat. “Do you think they love each other?”

“I do. Neither one can get along without the other. No matter how many times they break up, they end up back together. Of course they love each other.”

“But they’re not happy.”

A strange shadow passes over Rafael’s face. “No, they’re not. They’re living proof that love brings perfect happiness only in fairy tales.”

You look away from his face. You know you’ve been falling in love with him for the past couple of months. You’ve been hoping that he was feeling the same way. You weren’t naïve enough to believe that love was a guarantee of happily-ever-after, but you had at least hoped that it would make life better. What you don’t want to think about is the possibility of ending up like Lin and Pippa, in love with someone who makes you miserable. What if you and Rafael are in love, but you’ll still never be happy together. You work up your courage. “You asked me what I was scared of,” you say. “I could say that I’m scared of not finding love, but what I’m really scared of is finding love and having it be a disaster like theirs. Of really, really loving someone, but not being able to be happy with him. Or worse, I guess, of him not being happy with me.”

Rafa is still holding your hand, and he looks down at it, running his thumb over it slowly. He lifts it to his lips and kisses it softly. He looks back at you, and his eyes are blue-green, like the ocean. “What if …” he says, “what if I start by telling you that I always take my meds on time?”

*          *          *          *          *

Mía is whining and snuffling at the bedroom door. Rafa breaks a kiss long enough to yell, “No, you may _not_ come in.” You can almost hear her give an aggrieved sigh before she walks away, but Rafa’s mouth is back on yours, and you aren’t really thinking about anything else. He moves down to your neck, teeth bared so that he can scrape them across your collarbone in a way that makes you shudder, and makes him hum with satisfaction. “Mm, you like the way that feels?”

“Yes,” you gasp, and you run your nails down his back, not deep enough to draw blood, but not gently either.

His hips jerk against you. “Ah, fuck,” he mutters. “Do that again.”

You do it again, and he pushes between your legs, not roughly, but … urgently. His mouth is against your ear. “Tell me what you want,” he says, rubbing against you.

“You know what I want.”

“Tell me.” He likes to hear you say it. Of course he does; words are his lifeblood.

“I want you to fuck me. I want you inside me, all the way inside me, as far as you can go.” Saying it arouses you as much as hearing it does him, and you spread your legs wide, roll your hips up. He gets his hand on you, two fingers inside and his thumb on your clit as he sucks on your breast. “You’re gonna make me come,” you gasp.

“Yeah.” His fingers keep moving, and you can’t keep yourself from pushing down on his hand, but you want more, want to be filled and stretched.

“I want you inside me.”

“Tell me why,” he insists, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Because I love you,” you tell him. “I love you, and I want you to fuck me.”

He slides in, thick and warm and demanding, as smoothly as if you were made of melted wax.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers. “I love me a girl who knows what she wants.”

He pulls back, pushes in, harder and faster.

“More,” you tell him. His thumb is still on your clit, rubbing circles, and your senses are focused on the tension that is building inside you. “More,” you gasp. “Go deeper.”

He does, hard, and your body clamps down on him, holding him inside you as the waves sweep through you, leaving you shaking against him. You finish wrapped around each other, sweating and panting, and he can’t stop kissing you. “I love you,” he says, over and over. “I love you.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leslie Odom Jr. has never played Billy Flynn in "Chicago," but I really wish he would. He'd be perfect.  
> Rafael quotes Dylan Thomas's poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night." You're probably familiar with it, but if not, find it and read it.  
> I used both "Measure for Measure" and "Much Ado About Nothing" as devices to help illuminate my characters. I don't know of a good film version of "Measure for Measure," but Joss Whedon's 2012 "Much Ado About Nothing" is brilliant, as is the 2011 filmed stage production starring (screech!) David Tennant and Catherine Tate, but that's much harder to find in a decent video version online. Worth looking, though. Oh, and in my imaginary production of "Much Ado About Nothing," Karen Olivo played Beatrice, Emmy was Margaret, and Chris was Don Pedro. Sorry for the tangent here, but I do love Mr. Shakespeare and all his "words, words, words, words, words."  
> The title of this piece is from Rafael's newest single, "Oxygen," which is, of course, amazing.  
> This is the last work in this series, but there will be more stories eventually. Working on a couple more right now, one long and one short, in the "Provoke Outrage" AU. But, as always, tell me what you like. Comments motivate me!  
> Thanks for reading!


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